


That's War

by Capicada



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Character Study, M/M, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capicada/pseuds/Capicada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mind was trapped in cotton. Blurred, soft, and dulled of sound, the only sensations that he could feel were the churning of fiery nausea in his stomach and pin pricks of anger threatening to pour from his eyes. It all felt so comfortingly familiar, instinct telling him that pain was an old reassurance that he’d once again earned his survival, his privilege. </p><p>What a fucking joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's War

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post (http://megneato.tumblr.com/post/127509538817/oh-god-guys-what-if-felix-finds-locus-trapped)

The shot had been silent. 

War was usually ripe with sound. You eventually learned to numb yourself to most of it, the dust from explosions and trenches encasing you in a deadened, quiet shell. However, one who had thrived on war like Felix had eventually learned to strike a delicate balance, to tune out the non-essentials and but still leech off the energy of its vibrant melody, of its whistling bombs and firing guns. 

But the shot had been silent. It should’ve startled him, made him wonder if the crash had blown out his hearing, but it barely registered to him. His mind was trapped in cotton. Blurred, soft, and dulled of sound, the only sensations that he could feel were the churning of fiery nausea in his stomach and pin pricks of anger threatening to pour from his eyes. It all felt so comfortingly familiar, instinct telling him that pain was an old reassurance that he’d once again earned his survival, his privilege. 

What a fucking joke. It was like karma was laughing at him, echoes of its cruel jeers pooling red and thick under his limp partner’s armor, Felix’s own bullet in his head.

“I’m not going to make it, Felix,” he had whispered out from under the rubble, voice hoarse even through the filter. 

“Shut the _fuck_ up, yes you are.” Felix had gritted out between huffs, hands still frantically looking for a grip on the slab. “You always make it, you’re like a cockroach.” Finding no purchases on the slab Felix began to hyperventilate, hands going to grip his hair in panic.

“Dammit Locus, help me!” he cried, resorting to slamming himself against the slab to loosen it.

“Felix…”

“ _Help me!_ ”

Locus started to say something else, but a harsh cough cut him off, and Felix flinched as he heard the wet edge to it. 

“Leave.” Locus hissed, the broken filter in his helmet slurring his words. “It’s over.”

“Fuck that! It’s not over until everyone on this planet is dead and we’re too loaded with cash to walk,” Felix spat, kicking the slab in frustration. 

“Leave.” Locus repeated, struggling weakly with one hand to remove his helmet. Felix stopped to bend down, unsteady fingers unlocking the hatches and casting the cracked helmet away as he fully took in his partner. Red seeped into his vision and his lips drew back in a snarl, cradling Locus’s bloodied face in his hands.

“I’m going to kill them. All of them. I’m going to carve your fucking name into every single one of their chests, so that when Kimball comes to cry over them she’ll know exactly why-”

“No,” Locus rasped, blood running down his lips as he spoke. “ _Leave._ ”

Turning to stand again Felix began to pace, waving his hands about hysterically. 

“Fine. _Fine!_ I’ll leave! I’ll leave this godforsaken planet and never _ever_ look back! What more do you want from me?”

“A bullet.”

Felix whirled around, face twisted in shock.“No fucking way-”

“There’s nothing else that can be done,” Locus said, voice calm as though he was reciting a mission briefing. The mild delivery only served to make Felix more distraught, frenzied fingers clawing through his hair and digging into his scalp.

“I-I can’t Locus, I…”

“You’ve threatened to shoot me for less.” 

Felix stiffened, then with a stifled sob fell back to his knees and cut Locus off with a kiss, the taste of blood and grit spilling into his mouth as his fingers reached to grasp the back of Locus’s neck. He dragged his teeth along the bottom of Locus’s lip, drawing a pained sigh from his partner’s throat, their free hands clasped so tightly together that in any other situation Felix would have worried about bruising. When it ended Felix pressed his forehead to his partner’s until it ached, and his breath hissed in and out between his bared teeth. 

“Felix,” Locus breathed, and Felix savored the sound of it, the affectionate lilt of Locus’s voice with every syllable of his name. Focusing on that lingering sound, clinging to it, he stood up and readied his pistol, leveling it with Locus’s head. He kept his gaze on Locus the entire time, from the second his finger pulled the trigger to the final shudder that tore through his partner, entombing him among the ruins. Locus might have said something during those last few moments, an attempt at comfort, a reassurance of love, but as the the pistol slipped from his hand all he could hear was the silence ringing in his ears, world blurred and weeping red.

Lethargic, mind still trapped in blood red cotton, he slowly reached down to fumble for the sword on his thigh. With trembling hands he activated it, the thrum of it resonating like a raw scream through his veins. All at once the world came back into focus, threatening to be ripped apart from the thundering of war drums in his ears and the explosion of tears like shrapnel to his eyes. It was a war cry, a call to arms, and as the promise he’d made became but a faint buzzing in the back of his head Felix answered the call. As if his suit was on autopilot he staggered away from the crash site, Locus’s grave, in the direction of the communication tower. Tightening his grip on the sword with a mirthless red smile Felix’s stride turned predatory, a dead man seeking to kill the attendees of his funeral, his eulogy resounding violently in the churning clouds above him.

He had promised Locus he would leave, that he would earn his privilege. That he would make it back. But without Locus, without his partner, there was nothing to go back to.

That was war, after all.


End file.
